


Dear Santa

by aMUSEment345



Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 22:14:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17232182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aMUSEment345/pseuds/aMUSEment345
Summary: One shot.  A lifetime of correspondence between Deeks and the Man in the Red Suit.





	Dear Santa

 

 

 

_**Dear Santa** _

Dear Santa,

Please, please, please, please, please, can I have a skateboard? It doesn't even have to be a good one. I can paint it myself! Just….can I have it, please? I know I haven't been good this year. I think maybe I'm just bad. That's what Dad says. He says I have no good in me, so he has to beat it in. But…if he does, can I have it, please? I promise I'll be better next year!

Love,

Marty

* * *

Dear Santa,

Thanks for the skateboard! It's so cool! Ray and I painted it so it glows in the dark! The thing is, Ray doesn't have one. So, do you think you could bring him one this year? Then we could ride together, instead of one at a time. I don't want anything, so you can just give it to Ray. Dad says I don't deserve anything, anyway. But Ray does, I promise! He's my best friend. After you, that is.

And I know you mostly only bring toys to kids, but, if you don't mind, could you bring something for Mom? She doesn't smile any more, and I think she's sad. Probably because Dad gets mad at her all the time. Could you bring her something to make her happy? Could you make Dad happy, too? Could you maybe ask him to stop hitting me, even if I deserve it? It hurts.

Your friend,

Marty

* * *

Dear Santa,

I don't know why I'm writing to you, considering I'm ten years old. Ray told me all about you. You don't exist. You're a fairy tale, just like the tooth fairy, and the Easter Bunny. You're something grownups made up to get us to believe there's magic in the world. But there isn't, is there?

I should have known. You never brought my mom her smile. You never made Dad stop yelling at us. You never made him stop hurting us. You never made us stop being afraid.

But no one else will help. Maybe that's why I'm writing to someone I don't believe in. We're scared, Santa. We're afraid he won't know what he's doing, and that he'll really hurt us one day. Please, Santa, please make him stop.

Because, if you don't, I will.

Marty

* * *

Dear Santa,

Thanks for nothing. Do you know what they do to kids who shoot their fathers? Even if their father was trying to kill their mother? They put them in juvie, that's what. Then they send in the social worker, who wants to know if I'm a homicidal maniac or something. Haven't they ever heard of self-defense?

The worst thing is, he isn't dead. I didn't kill him. The social worker said I should be glad about that, but I'm not. I guess he was right after all. I  _am_  bad to the bone.

The second worse thing is that they took me away from Mom. They said she didn't protect me from him. How the hell was she supposed to do that when he was beating on her, and pointing a gun at her?!

The only one who makes sense is Mr. Carson. He's my lawyer. They give you one, when you're in juvie. He's a cool guy, and he says he's going to try to get me home for Christmas. So, if you can help him…that's all I want.

Not that I believe in you, anyway.

Marty

* * *

Dear Santa,

I guess maybe I do believe in you. Or maybe I believe in the law. Dad's in prison. He can't hurt us, or threaten us, except when we read his letters. But we're safe now, and Mom has a little bit of her smile back. I can tell she's worried about me, and I think she's worried about paying bills, but at least she's not afraid of being killed.

This year, I guess we just need money. Mom says that at least we had a roof over our heads when Dad was with us. Now, she's afraid we'll have to move. I hope we don't. I would miss my best friend, Ray.

So, could you help us with money? Or maybe you could help me find a job? Please?

Yours,

Martin Deeks

* * *

Santa, Dude!

Can I have a surfboard?

Thanks.

* * *

Hey, Santa,

It's been a while, huh? I need a favor. Can you help me with the LSATs please? I really want to go to law school, but I had to work two double shifts in a row before the last test, and I tanked it. Mom needed the money for the rent, so I couldn't exactly say 'no'. But I need to ace them this time. I really want to help people in trouble. Nobody knows better than I do that it's never black-and-white. I want to help the people stuck in the shades of gray. So can you help a guy catch a break?

Thanks,

Marty

* * *

Dear Santa,

Not that I'm ungrateful for the help with law school, but I think I figured out that I could help people better from the streets than from the courtroom. If I can keep them from  _needing_  a lawyer, we're both ahead of the game. So….police academy this time?

Not that I couldn't use a new surf board, too. I saw one down at the shop that was soooo sweeeeet… So, if you're feeling generous, hit me up, okay? And maybe a hot babe to go with it?

M.

* * *

Dear Santa,

You definitely have a sense of humor, don't you? Here I am, thinking hot blonde, and you send me this brunette with scary eyes, and killer moves…..and the sweetest smile I've ever seen. I mean, I  _melt_. Just  _melt_. Not that I'll ever let her know that. She's my partner. Yep, that's right. Undercover Marty has a new gig. I'm with NCIS now. But still also with LAPD, because that's my home. But Kensi….where did you ever find her? Did Barbie and GI Joe have a baby?

Anyway, this is what I'm asking for this year: to keep her safe. She's my partner, and I need to have her back and, considering what we do, I can use all the help I can get. So, no surfboard this year. I can actually afford my own, finally. But…just... Kensi.

Thanks,

Marty

* * *

Dear Santa,

I don't know what I'm supposed to think. I mean, did Christmas come early this year? That's what learning about my dad's dying was supposed to be, wasn't it? A present? Except that it actually came a couple of decades too late.

I know I shouldn't be ungrateful, because I'm still alive to write this. There was a minute there where I thought my shooter was going to do me in. Made me think about a lot of things, in just an instant. Things like getting married, and having a family. Kensi. Mom. Monty. Even Dad. It made me think about things like forgiveness, and whether I even have it in me. Then I found out it was too late, anyway.

Is it?

I guess all I need this year is to figure it all out. Ha! Like I ever will.

Yours,

Marty

PS Thanks for taking care of Ray. Closest thing I've ever had to a brother.

* * *

Dear Santa,

I need you to be real. Please be real. Because I'm pretty much out of things to believe in.

Something happened to me, and I'm not sure I even believe in myself anymore. It's been a hell of a year, but you already know that, don't you? I'm not who I thought I was, and I'm not sure what my future holds. But I'm sure about Kensi. I didn't trust you when you ignored the whole blonde thing, but I guess you knew what you were doing. So, thanks for that.

This year, all I need is for her not to give up on me. She's my lifeline, and I mean that literally. I know I'm not myself, but I promise I'll try to be, if only you don't let anyone take her away.

Yours,

Marty

* * *

Dear Santa,

Yeah, I know this is a second letter in the same year, but I have something to get off my chest.

I asked you nicely, and what did I get? Christmas alone, and Kensi in goddamn Afghanistan. You know, I get it, if I'm on your 'bad boy' list. I've got Brandel blood in me, after all. But what did Kensi ever do?

Sometimes I wonder if Dad wasn't right after all. I'm not meant to have good things. I mean, like with Kensi …. we had just been getting somewhere. We'd been getting  _there_ , where I want to be. All of the things I hadn't been able to say to her, she allowed me to show her. It all felt so good, so promising. You remember that, don't you, Santa? Didn't you and Mrs. Claus have that, once upon a time? Did your future evaporate as suddenly as mine did?

Please get her home safely. Please. I can't be there to have her back, and I don't trust anyone else to do it like I would. I know she's tough, but she's soft on the inside. Please don't let that cost her. But please, don't let it change, either. I love her just the way she is.

Maybe you could tell her I said that, because I can't.

Marty

* * *

Dear Santa,

We're official. It happened in front of the rest of the team, so there's no trying to hide it now. Not that I was all that good at hiding it before, I guess. But I wasn't all that good at showing it, either. Maybe, for Christmas, you could help me fix that?

Not that I haven't already been given a gift this year. You brought her back to me. Thank you for that. Okay, technically the team brought her back, but thanks anyway. For a while there, I thought I'd gotten her back at the cost of my own soul, in some sort of freakish O. Henry kind of thing, but I think we're both back to being 'us' again.

Just help me not blow it, okay? That's all I want.

Yours,

Marty

* * *

Dear Santa,

Well, I see you haven't lost your sense of humor. Things were going great with Kensi….until I was arrested for murder.

I got sprung, but it wasn't exactly a happy ending, because the thing is….I actually did it. I actually killed the guy. Not that I haven't killed lots of guys since, but this one….he wasn't pointing a gun at me. Not  _that_  day, anyway. I was protecting someone else, just like I was protecting Mom from Dad when I was eleven. I guess I can be a pretty mean SOB when I'm in protection mode.

Kensi doesn't know, but my boss does, and she helped get me out of it. Are you sure Hetty Lange isn't one of your elves? Are all the other elves as mysterious as she is?

Here's what I need this year: I need you to help me tell Kensi. I can't keep it from her, even if Hetty thinks I should. So, please, please, put the opportunity in front of me, and put the words in my mouth.

Pretty weird, huh? Somebody asking to be able to confess to murder, as a Christmas present?

Yours,

Marty

PS There  _is_  a confidentiality clause to these letters, right?

* * *

Dear Santa,

I don't even know what to say. Should I be grateful that she's alive, or angry about what she's going through? Because I'm both. It kills me inside every time I see her frustrated and upset, and I don't know how to help her. More to the point, she doesn't want me to, and that hurts.

So, Santa, you remember what I asked you for last year? Guess what …  _Kensi_  gave it to me. She offered me forgiveness, and I told her what I'd done. How's that for a Christmas present?

So, considering you were off the hook last year, I want to negotiate for something big this time. I want her back.  _All_  the way back. Yes, I'm willing to take her any way I can have her, but she's refusing to go for that. So I want Kensi back, the way she  _wants_  to be.

Yes, that's right. Little Marty begged, Big Marty negotiates. What can I tell you, I'm a lawyer.

What do you say, Big Guy? Think you can find that in your big black sack?

Hope so.

Marty

PS I also didn't ask you to get the ring for me, which was a couple of months' salary. So put that on the negotiation table, too.

* * *

Dear Santa,

She said 'yes'! Well, technically, _I_  said 'yes', but that was only after I asked her three times, and she didn't say 'no'. So it still counts, doesn't it?

I guess I have to thank you for last year. You came through in a big way for us. You must have contacts with the other Big Guy, huh? Kensi's back, and we're partners again, and she's agreed to be my partner in life, too. Or I agreed to be hers. I'm still not sure about how that actually went.

So, I don't need anything. She's all I've ever wanted, even before I knew it. Way to go Santa, or Big Guy or whoever!

But there's someone who does need something, badly. My friend Sam lost his wife, in the most horrifying way. Not that it would have been easier any other way. He's hurting, and his kids are hurting. So, all I really need for you to do this year, is to bring them some solace. I have no idea what that means, but you're the guy with the magic. Please, please, bring them all some peace.

Thanks,

Marty

* * *

Dear Santa,

It's been a while, but I do need something this year. I'm in a place that I don't know how to be in. I feel like I'm at the edge of a precipice  _every … single …. day_ , afraid that one of us will fall off. I don't know how to live with that, and Kensi doesn't get it. Can you help her see?

There's so much I want for the two of us, and our future little mutant ninja assassins. Real life, without people shooting at us, or trying to blow us up. If you could just help her to want those things too, it's all I need for Christmas.

Yours,

Marty

* * *

Dear Santa,

I guess I should have been more specific with my request from last year. Yes, I asked for you to help Kensi come around. But I distinctly recall NOT mentioning anything about rockets or deserts or nearly killing us in the process. You're kind of big on the drama, aren't you? Effective, but dramatic.

Not that I remember much of it, because, according to Kensi, I was just along for the ride. But she still wants to marry me after dragging my sorry behind across miles of Mexican desert, so I guess it's all good.

So, this year, all I want is a wedding. I don't care if it's big or small, if I'm in a tux or a tee shirt. All I care about is marrying my most amazing, precious ladybird. So, if you think you can lay off the drama for a while, maybe you could just make sure there's a new Mrs. Deeks in the very near future? Or a Mrs. Blye-Deeks? Although, if I know Kensi, and I do, it will probably be Ms. Deeks-Blye.

You know what? I don't care. I'm happy, and I love her, and I just want to get married. Think you can manage that?

Thanks, Santa,

Marty

PS Maybe you could help us start working on those little mutant ninja assassins before next year, too. Not that we don't know what to do, that is.

* * *

_Eight years later..._

Dear Santa,

My name is Robert, and this is my first letter. I met you a few times at the mall, though. Do you remember me?

I tried really hard to be good this year, because I really, really, really want a skateboard. My friend Eric has a fancy one, but I don't need one like that. Dad says he'll help me fix it up, like he did with the one you brought him. So, please, please, could you bring me one?

Mom says I have to ask you for a helmet and knee pads and elbow pads, too.

Thanks, Santa. I promise I'll be good all the way up until Christmas!

Love,

Robert

PS Dad says to tell you he's sorry he hasn't written in a while, but the LMNAs are keeping him busy. He says you'll know what that means. And he says 'Thanks for everything!'.


End file.
